


You make me sick

by bbaejin (moonsbbin)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bang Chan, Drugs, First Time, Hate to Love, M/M, Roommates, Smut, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsbbin/pseuds/bbaejin
Summary: Chan thinks he has had enough of him. He can’t bear it anymore.He can’t bear the loud music his roommate plays twenty four-seven as if his life fucking depended on it. He can’t bear the long nights he had had to spend sleeping outside of their room on the hallway’s carpet because the other boy had brought someone to have sex with for the night. And he can’t bear his constant comments, his way too sweet voice during the mornings, the way his tattooed body looks when he comes out of the shower, just a towel covering him…
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 6
Kudos: 200





	You make me sick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bxbble_racha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bxbble_racha/gifts).



> surprise!! i know, i know. i said i wouldn't post this until your birthday... but here we are! i couldn't resist it, i really wanted to post this! i love you, i miss you to no end, and i hope you like this little gift i prepared for you! (grítame por wsp cuando acabes heh)
> 
> to everyone that isn't Bxbble_racha, hi! enjoy this fic that took me a little longer than what i wanted. i had a fun time writing it! hope you have a fun time reading it as well (mind the tags btw!).
> 
> pd. thank you eternally to [palo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynyu), who did the beta read for this fic and always supported me! te amo 1 montón ☆.

Chan thinks he has had enough of him. He can’t bear it anymore. 

He can’t bear the loud music his roommate plays twenty four-seven as if his life fucking depended on it. He can’t bear the long nights he had had to spend sleeping outside of their room on the hallway’s carpet because the other boy had brought someone to have sex with for the night. And he can’t bear his constant comments, his way too sweet voice during the mornings, the way his tattooed body looks when he comes out of the shower, just a towel covering him…

Chan shakes his head, takes a chip from the bag Jisung hands him and bites on it slowly, the salty taste feeling nice on his tongue. He lets his back rest against the tree trunk behind him, his head falling back and his eyes closing. Just two weeks into university, and he already can’t bear it anymore.

The first day he saw his roommate, his jaw downright dropped. He had presented himself  _ late _ , late being three whole days after their classes started. Chan really started to think that his roommate would never appear, and right when he was going to notify the principal about it, and then, he finally arrived.

It was late at night when Chan heard two knocks on the wooden door and saw it being opened right after. The guy that entered the room, two backpacks hanging on each of his shoulders, wearing all black and a few chains… That guy… Chan thought for real that he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. From his black, slightly long hair and his dark eyes, to the few piercings on his left eyebrow and nostril and the outline of the tattoos that could be seen under the shirt he was wearing, everything about him was perfect.

He still is, if Chan thinks about it. He’s so stupidly perfect it makes him fucking sick. 

Lee Minho, he learned his name when he rushedly introduced himself before he threw all his things over his own bed and headed for the bathroom to shower. Chan could only mumble his own name to him before the bathroom door was closed shut before his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he had heard him. It’s not like he has called his name lots of times in the time they have known each other, anyway.

“I’m so done, I swear,” he tells Jisung and Changbin. Again, just two weeks into university, but Chan is so tired. The first few days, he thought that Minho’s attitude would change with a little bit of time. Now, though, he knows that is impossible. “What can I do? How can I make him  _ stop _ ?”

He looks up at his friends and scoffs at the sight right in front of him: Jisung immersed in the chips bag, looking inside almost carefully as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, and Changbin looking at him with big eyes, making a weird face from the effort of holding back his laugh. It doesn’t work, as he starts chuckling loudly right the next second, startling Jisung from his trance with the sharp sound and making Chan let out a desperate cry, covering his face with his hands.

“Sorry, sorry.” Changbin says after he laughs so much it starts to hurt his tummy, his small hands pressing softly over it. “I just find it funny.” And with that, he keeps on mocking the shit out of him.

“Oh, don’t fuck with me.” Chan combs a hand through his hair and rests back on the trunk again, closing his eyes as if the world could disappear around him. He wasn’t expecting his first year of university to go like this, having to keep up with a damn annoying roommate that haunts him even in his dreams (the kind of dreams he appears in, though, is not something Chan can admit without feeling extremely embarrassed and having the blood rushing to his ears). “I’m dead serious right now, okay?”

He doesn’t open his eyes when he speaks again, mainly because he really doesn’t feel like seeing his stupid friend’s mocking faces right now but also because he didn’t exactly sleep last night. Because (guess who?) his fucking roommate decided to blast what seemed like Egypt Central’s entire discography at 1AM. He doesn’t understand how they haven’t gotten any noise complaints by now. Because Minho makes  _ a lot _ of noise, pun intended. Chan  _ knows _ for a fact that Minho (and his multiple partners too) is also extremely loud in bed.  _ That fucker... _

“Why don’t you fuck him, though?” Jisung says as if it was nothing, as if it was no big deal. As if he didn’t just request Chan to have sex with the person he detests the most. He opens his eyes widely and stares hard at his friend, wishing that looks could kill. Changbin, as expected, just watches them, amused, a smile showing his little fangs drawn on his face.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” It’s everything Chan says, his eyes still wide open as he tries his best not to let his thoughts go way too far. “How the hell do you want me to fuck him if you know that I-”

“That you’re a blushy virgin?” Changbin intervenes in the conversation, finishing the words Chan really  _ didn’t _ want to say. At all.

“Changbin!” The oldest of the three screams a little too loud, the few people sitting in other places of the yard turning around to look at them, probably interested in why he yelled that much. He feels the blood rush to his face even more, embarrassed for both the attention from the strangers and the comments his friends made. Because, sadly for him, Changbin isn’t wrong.

“Ah, yes, that’s true, but what better way of losing your purity,” he stops for a few seconds to remark his lame joke, “than with the hot roommate?”

“I can think of a million better ways.” Chan stands up while he speaks, both Jisung and Changbin following his movements. Chan’s sure they’d almost forgotten that they have a class in five. Such a shame, because it’s also one of the classes they share with Minho.  _ What could be worse?  _ Chan thinks as they walk through the freshly-cut grass towards the big front door of the campus. “And anyway, how could that help me in making him stop doing annoying shit?”

“It is simple.” Jisung stops in front of him, making Chan break off his steps. “You know, you fuck him, you let him know who rules in that damned room. It’s simple, don’t you get it? It’s so simple.” 

He repeats the word so many times Chan rolls his eyes as exaggeratedly as he can manage and pushes him to the side, back to his way to the classroom. If he hears the loud giggles of his friends behind his back, he pretends he doesn’t.

  
  


...

  
  


The class starts smoothly, with Minho seated as far as possible from him, and Jisung and Changbin long forgotten by his right, Chan feels at peace as he takes notes on his laptop. He thinks that nothing can go wrong that morning until he receives a mail notification on his phone and decides to open it on his computer, as his phone was running out of battery already.

_ Saturday 11pm party at my house, everyone invited. _

_ Hope to see you there!! xoxo - Yerim _

Chan frowns, struggling to remember who this Yerim girl is. He looks at Jisung and Changbin, who have received the same message as him and presumably all the class, seeing that everyone was looking at their phones and chatting interestedly. From the corner of his eye, Chan notices that Minho is also with his phone.  _ Everyone’s invited. _ Knowing Minho, he will go to the party.

Shit.

A thought runs through his brain, too fast to properly process it before he gets immersed in it.

A party. It means alcohol. Alcohol means losing control.  _ Why don’t you fuck him? _ Jisung’s words hunt him like a hunter hunts his prey. Maybe it is not such a bad idea. And this is the best and probably the only opportunity he will have to do it.

Because, for real, what can go wrong? Sure, there are better ways of having his first time. But it can’t be that bad, right? And maybe even Jisung is right. Maybe he can get Minho to shut the fuck up if he fucks him. ‘ _ Show him who rules _ ’ or whatever shit Jisung said. Another glance at Minho. A sigh.

“Fuck it.” He says to himself, sending a confirmation of his assistance to whoever Yerim is and closing his laptop right after. 

_ Life is too short to not take risks _ , Chan thinks to himself as he lets his eyes get lost in Minho’s beauty once again. He takes in all the little movements the younger makes, from the way he plays with the piercing on his brow distractedly to his plump, pretty red lips that Chan can see clearly even from as far away as he is from him. Minho is so attractive, so irresistible, so fucking annoying, that all Chan can think about is to do something,  _ anything _ to get in bed with him.

And now, with the confidence he has gained out of nowhere, he is determined to do it.

He is going to fuck him, and then Minho  _ will _ shut up.

  
  


...

  
  


The party has already started when Chan steps into the crowded space of the living room, a sigh leaving his lips at the heavy smell of strong alcohol, menthol cigarettes and weed. He doesn’t know any of the drunk bodies that surround him as he walks towards the bar at the end of the room, but it’s not like he cares much about them. 

Their presence is expendable now. 

They’re not important to him.

A splashing sound makes him look to his left, noticing the big pool in the middle of the fucking living room, red light illuminating the entirety of the place. It gives the environment some kind of aura Chan can’t put into words. 

_ It’s nearly erotic, lust filling all the space. _

It must be the lighting and the slow R&B music coming from the speakers that is making all the people grind against each other like beasts in heat.

He doesn’t have time to wonder why someone would need a pool inside their house or why the weed smell started to mix with the stink of sex, because soon enough he finds his two only friends next to the bar he has been for what feels like an eternity approaching. They are making out, tongues up the other one’s throats and hard-ons rubbing over each other. Chan doesn’t bother in making a comment, or in feeling disgusted at the fact that they could be coming in literally any second, if the desperate sounds they were both making is anything to go by. They are so loud that their whines can be heard even over the loud music.

It was no secret to Chan that Jisung and Changbin fucked, if they felt lonely enough. Tonight, inside this intoxicating party, there’s nothing else they can do. As if the air was drugging them, they just wanted to feel each other. 

Chan can feel some of that invisible drug poisoning his skin, all the pale expanse buzzing with excitement as he reaches the bar and glances back at the party to search for his prey. He’s not ready, he doesn’t feel ready, but he’s not going to back up now. He already got into his best (and hottest, he must say) clothes, and he’s not going to waste this only opportunity. 

It’s now or never.

Chan asks the attractive bartender after about a minute of searching without results for a coke with rum (plenty of rum, he remarks), lays back on the counter and starts chatting with bar-guy. He learns his name is Juyeon, that he also studies at their university and that he’s majoring in psychology. He has a cat-like expression and a sharp nose and jawline, honey skin exposed by the three buttons he’d undone of his dark blue shirt. The red lights make his stare look even more penetrating, his smirk even more playful. Once again, it feels intoxicating. Chan holds his breath when the guy tells him that he’s hot, and turns back the compliment as well as he can. After a few sips of the alcohol, he’s already drunk.

If he wasn’t at that party for other business, he would try to fuck with this guy.

But right when Juyeon starts getting closer to the counter, he sees him.

Lee Minho.

He suddenly forgets about bar-guy and about his best friends still making out not even five feet away from him. Everything around him becomes a blur where the only thing he can see is Minho. As simple as his all-black outfit is, Chan can’t help but to think that he looks extremely handsome. He stares as he sees him rolling his body in sensual waves to the slow beat of the music, dancing alone but mixing perfectly into the sea of bodies. Nobody but Chan seems to notice him. Good.

He doesn’t even say bye to bar-guy before he walks away from him and towards the most crowded space of the room. It smells even more like every kind of drug in between all the people that are dancing around him. He realizes he doesn’t recognize absolutely anyone. Damn, he wouldn’t even recognize the party girl (was it Yeji? Yeri?) if he had her in front of him. He shakes his head, and turns his gaze back to where Minho was.

Was, because he’s no longer there.

After a second of confusion, Chan feels two strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He screams, scared that one of the drunk weirdos there has decided that he’s going to be his meal for the night. Nobody turns around. Nobody hears him over the loud Chase Atlantic song that Chan struggles to recognize.

He is going to try to get rid of the other person when he hears his sweet voice right next to his ear, his breath fanning over his blushed skin.

“It’s me, Bang.” His voice is soft but Chan manages to hear him over the noise. He turns his head, and is surprised at the face he sees behind him.

Of course,  _ obviously _ , it has to be Minho.

“What the hell?!” Chan has to yell to be heard, finally getting rid of Minho’s arms and turning on his heels to face him. Minho just laughs, his beautiful smile shining bright under the low lights. Chan realizes that this is probably the first proper conversation they have ever had. Interesting. “Are you high or what?”

Chan is annoyed, tries his best to make it clear on his voice. Then, he remembers why he’s there.  _ Fuck him _ , a voice in the back of his head tells him. He shuts it up as he gets a little step closer to him. 

Chan is happy to see Minho’s smirk at his action (or at his question? Chan will never know), and lets out a pleased sigh when Minho takes his hand, grabbing the glass of rum and throwing it to the floor. 

“Not a single bit,” the hold on his hand gets tighter. “And you, Bang Chan? Are you high?”

Chan doesn’t understand the question. His mind suddenly was flooded with tiny little cotton sugar clouds, everything even more blurry if possible. His head hurts, but he still sees Minho’s white teeth under the lights. He looks at the broken glass on the floor, and wonders what Juyeon had put inside. It looked like rum. It  _ tasted _ like rum. 

“Huh?” Is the most coherent thing he can manage as he looks up at him.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to take the drinks the pretty guys give you?” Minho reaches up a hand for him to hold, and he grabs one of the small digits in what seems like slow motion to him. His body feels heavy, his eyes start to close unwittingly, and even if he doesn’t understand what’s happening he feels at peace because Minho is with him. 

_ You shouldn’t, you barely know the guy, _ the voice in the back of his head speaks again. Chan doesn’t pay attention to it. 

Minho grabs his jaw and gets his face close to his, applying a little bit of pressure on the sides to open his mouth. Chan’s eyes widen when Minho’s face approaches him, but relaxes when he sees that he’s just smelling his breath. No kissing yet. No kissing. 

“Ketamine.” Minho speaks, and Chan, again, doesn’t understand. He just lets himself be led through the crowd until they reach the front door and step out of the house.

It’s cold outside, Chan knows that far, but he doesn’t feel much. His body is numb, but he’s not scared of it for some reason he doesn’t understand. As if he understands anything this night.

“What happened?” His voice is elongated when he speaks, getting caught in each of the two words. He lets himself be seated on the cold marble stairs at the entrance, slowly, and he’s suddenly hyper aware of Minho’s hands grabbing his waist to not let him fall. 

“Sir ‘rum and coke’ fucking drugged you, Bang Chan” he sounds annoyed, but his expression is still soft. Chan tries his best to remember Juyeon’s face. He can’t manage more than a shimmering red and honey skin bundle.

“Oh?” He looks up to Minho as he tilts his head. Minho can’t help but think that he looks adorable. “Why so?”

Minho’s laugh is a sweet melody when Chan hears it come out of his beautiful lips. “He probably wanted to fuck you.”

_ Fuck. Fucking. You want to fuck him too. Minho, not Juyeon. You don’t remember Juyeon. _

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Want me to ask him?” Minho has to cover his mouth with a soft hand before he replies. “Don’t answer that, honey. I’m not going back in there.”

_ Honey, like Juyeon’s skin. Honey. Oh, honey? Minho, called you honey? Honey… You like honey.  _

“It will take an hour for the effect to be gone,” Minho takes out his phone from his back pocket and slowly frees Chan’s mouth from his hand. He still feels like he’s floating and everything but Minho’s figure is a blur in his eyes. 

He should be anxious, because a stranger drugged him to do god-knows-what with him, because he’s in a house in the middle of nowhere and because Minho, as much as he’s his roommate, is also still a stranger to him and could manipulate him whenever he wants to because Chan doesn’t know what he’s doing, and everything is so overwhelming that he’s just completely numb to the feeling. 

Chan doesn’t speak because he doesn’t know what to say, and Minho doesn’t speak because he doesn’t know how to make the effect of the ketamine go away.

Because Minho is not dumb. He has heard things, and he knows exactly what is Chan’s goal for the end of the night. He would never admit it out loud, but he wanted to have sex with him just as much. That’s why he’s there, after all. To let Chan have his little fun with him. To let Chan think that he’s in control and then  _ boom _ , his evil plan starts.  _ About time to draw a tick on his checklist, on the ‘destroying a virgin’ part _ , Minho had thought that evening as he got ready for the party. He has desired Chan’s body from the very beginning.

Now, however, his plans have been fucked (pun not intended) by pretty-bar-guy.  _ Great _ , he tells himself as he sees Chan rolling over the floor right in front of him and giggling like a maniac to abruptly stop moving just a second after.  _ Fucking great. _

The first fifteen minutes they spend at the front door are like torture to Minho.

At first it was kinda funny to see Chan delirious and thinking that he was going to die just for him to giggle again a second after, but as the seconds passed it was starting to drive Minho absolutely insane. He doesn’t remember the effects of the ketamine on himself like this. 

Every day you learn a new thing, he guesses.

“Minho,” Chan speaks after a few more minutes, looking up at him with a sad expression on his pretty face. He had smeared dust and dirt on his white shirt from the ground. Also, a few buttons were accidentally undone, exposing his pearly skin. Nonetheless, he still looks adorable. “I wanna puke.”

“Do it, then.” Minho tries to sound careless. He thinks he manages. “It will make the effect go sooner, actually.”

Chan’s eyes light up at Minho’s words, and the youngest can’t help but to feel sorry for him. Both of their plans have been ruined for the night. He reminds himself to beat pretty-guy up tomorrow. First thing in the morning. 

And then Chan starts to let out everything that was inside his poor stomach over the fence next to him. The sounds he is making are more than disgusting, and Minho can’t help but to look away from the shaking body at his feet. It’s going to be such a long night. For both of them.

  
  


...

  
  


The walk home is messy, but they manage to make it to their shared room in the campus dorms in one piece. More than three hours passed since Chan had been drugged, and the effect was long gone now, thankfully for both of them. He still feels weak on the knees, but blames Minho for it.  _ He has no business looking this hot.  _

“Sorry.” He says as Minho takes out the keys of their room. Minho looks up to him, his hand midway to the keyhole, and gives him an interested look. “You didn’t have to babysit me.”

Then, the younger laughs again, and Chan swears that it’s the sweetest and most beautiful sound he has ever heard. It’s even more beautiful now that his mind is working at full capacity and he doesn’t see stars and shadows at the same time whenever he looks at him. 

“No problem, don’t worry too much about it,” Minho opens the door as he speaks, letting Chan enter the room first and following suit right after him. “God knows what could’ve happened to you if I left you alone and high inside that house.” A pause. Chan feels the silence cutting his skin. “I can’t let anything bad happen to you, you know?”

Chan scoffs, but still feels the blood rush to his face and neck. He hopes that Minho doesn’t notice the color of his skin under the moonlight that comes from the open window. 

“Why do you suddenly care about me, when you have been fucking me up for the last two weeks?” He speaks way too fast, closing the door behind him when he finishes his words. 

Minho lets himself fall over his bed, and the smirk that’s drawn on his face is filled with lust and darkness.

“Because I know what you’re up to.” He notices that Chan doesn’t understand him, so he elaborates. “I know that you wanted to fuck me tonight, Bang Chan.”

Minho stands up from the bed, and Chan feels the whole world falling apart around him. How the fuck did he know about it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face is burning, all of his skin is burning, and he feels like he’s going to puke again. “And don’t call me like that…”

“Like what?” Minho tilts his head and fakes innocence, stepping closer to him as the seconds pass. “Channie doesn’t like his full name?”

That’s it. Chan  _ knows _ he’s dying right here and now. He steps back to escape from Minho, but with a quick glance he notices that he’s just inches away from the door.  _ Shit. _

Everything happens quickly. 

Suddenly, Chan is being squeezed against the door of their room, Minho’s body pressed way too close to his, sensitive skin being touched when it shouldn’t, in parts where it shouldn’t. He lets out a strangled moan, and the voice in the back of his head calls him pathetic for it. Chan doesn’t have enough power to shut it up.

“Are you turned on now?” Minho’s grin is even more attractive and annoying from this close, and, right now, he remembers why he wanted to fuck Minho. Because he can’t bear him anymore.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Minho smiles again, and Chan knows that what’s coming is not good for his own sanity. “Oh,” he reaches up a hand to slowly caress the heated skin of his cheekbone, “would you like to shut me up, sweetheart?”

And with these last words, and after what feels like an eternity, Minho leans down to press their lips together. He’s disgusted at the taste of Chan’s mouth, a mix between rum and the vague acid of his vomit, but doesn’t make a single comment about it as he presses Chan further against the door, making him open his thighs to slip his own in between them, the oldest grinding needily and with paceless thrusts against the clothed skin. 

Everything feels so hot for Chan, so overwhelming. Their skins tingle where they touch, and he can feel Minho’s fingers getting rid of both their shirts, their torsos now bare, hot, sweaty and panting.

“Can you get hard for me?” Minho cups his half hard cock and smiles wickedly against his mouth. Chan lets out a soft moan at the light pressure over his sensitive cock. “Good.”

Chan then figures that Minho is a demon. He must be, with the way he keeps massaging his aching cock as his lips travel down his neck, biting and licking and  _ bruising _ , the feeling so delicious, and Chan craves more. 

“Does it piss you off that I make you this hard?” 

He feels Minho smile against his collarbone, biting the skin when he stops talking, not leaving room for Chan to think. He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to. It’s not like he’s going to give Minho that satisfaction, anyway. 

Minho then pulls away, turns Chan around and pushes him towards his bed. Chan pulls him closer from the belt loops of his tight jeans, wrapping his arms around his waist and letting himself fall backwards over the mattress, dragging Minho down with him, the youngest falling over his body. It makes Minho laugh against his mouth, and Chan forgets for a second that he’s angry at him.

Then, the nervousness hits. Chan doesn’t want to feel nervous, but he does. He had a plan: fuck him deep, fuck him hard, but the anger that motivated him is starting to fade away. Chan’s chest feels constricted as they keep kissing, himself laid out beneath Minho’s strong body, hungrily reaching down to touch him.

“You want me?” Minho speaks almost into his mouth, and Chan has to process the words for a second as he catches his breath before getting startled at the question. He knows exactly what he means. But does he really want him?

It’s his dick instead of his brain, the one that replies a choked out “please”, and then Minho is kissing him again.

Minho’s lips are sweet with a strawberry taste in contrast to Chan’s own, and he finds himself getting intoxicated for the upteenth time of the night, but this time he is safe and it’s a pleasant feeling, how his skin burns and freezes at the same time when Minho’s lips touch him in the most sensitive areas under his jaw. His everything is making him feel high, from the mouth that now traces down his throat to the hands that start to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. Chan doesn’t oppose, and Minho keeps going, getting rid of the last pieces of clothing covering his pale skin in record time.

He’s naked, bare and completely exposed under his hungry gaze, but he finds that he doesn’t care. He wants this to happen, and wants it to happen  _ now _ .

“Do you want me to fuck you, baby?” Minho’s voice is hoarse with want, and Chan revels in the way it sounds. He closes his eyes when he nods. And he nods because, in part, he wants to know how a dick inside him would feel. On the other hand, he also thinks that he’s not strong enough to fuck Minho. In every sense of the word. Chan feels extremely weak when Minho surrounds him. The sensation drives him crazy.

He feels Minho letting his lips travel lower down his body, and he just has the strength to let his head fall back over the soft cushions of Minho’s bed and  _ wait, _ waits for Minho to do anything he pleases with him because he has been gone for a while now. 

Chan lets out a startled gasp when the younger reaches for his crotch. His fingers dance over the length of Chan’s dick, one hand curling around the base and squeezing. Chan bites on his lips as not to whimper. Then, his plump lips are over his cock, and Chan thinks he’s losing his fucking mind.

He places hungry, wet kisses along the shaft. It’s almost like he is taking care to worship every inch of him. He licks up a trail before slipping his mouth over the swollen, leaking head. Chan groans too loud for his liking, his hips thrusting forward on impulse, wanting more of him. Minho responds with a moan that vibrates around him and runs up and down his spine, and then he takes him in all the way, hands on his hips to keep him still. It makes Chan feel grounded for a second, and he silently thanks Minho for the small touch.

“Fuck,” Chan sounds wrecked already. Minho smiles to himself as he keeps working his mouth over his length. “Fuck,  _ fuck. _ ”

Minho’s mouth takes him deeper, and it feels amazing. Chan finally starts to relax his body into it, the pressure starting to build at the pit of his stomach as his entire body feels overly sensitive. It’s not enough yet to make him come, but it feels so good that he feels like he’s floating. Minho’s head is moving steadily, and Chan just stares down at him when he opens his eyes, amazed by how focused he looks as he nearly chokes on his dick. He forgets how to breathe when the younger looks up at him and grins with his mouth still stuffed with his cock. Chan’s eyes roll back on his head as a new wave of pleasure pounces over his nerves.

Minho pulls back after what feels like either one single second and a whole lifetime, Chan’s cock slipping out of his mouth, his red lips swollen and slick. “You taste good” he whispers, lips brushing over the sensitive head. His lips feel so soft, and his voice is rough and thick with want.

And then it hits Chan, how turned on he is from this. Minho is getting off on having his cock inside his mouth. Chan swallows a little too loud, and once again he hears Minho laughing from down there. His breath fans over his aching and wet cock.

“Enough playing, huh?” Minho stands up from his place in between Chan’s legs and gets rid of his remaining clothes, Chan’s mouth dropping open.  _ He’s going to fucking break me if that has to be inside me _ , he thinks as he eyes how the other grabs a bottle of lube from his nightstand and a plastic sachet and throws them to the bed Chan’s laying on. Chan sees the XL written on the sachet in big, bold letters. He pretends he doesn’t for the sake of conserving the last hint of sanity he still has, and Minho is over him again. “Let’s get onto business.”

“Wait.” He doesn’t know if Minho is aware that he’s a virgin, that this is his first time and that he has never tried to stick something up his ass, even less something as fucking huge as Minho’s dick. 

Minho opens his eyes wide and pouts as he sits back on Chan’s lap, planting his hands over his chest to keep himself steady. Chan wonders if he can feel the fast beating of his heart. “I- I think there’s something you should know about, Minho.”

Minho combs a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. The simple gesture makes Chan lose his breath for a brief moment, but soon he’s back to earth. “What is it?”

“T-this… this is my, eh, myfirsttime.” He rushes on the last words, his face burning in embarrassment as he raises his hands to cover his face. 

There’s the blushy virgin. Bet Changbin would laugh at his fucking face if he saw him now.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Minho holds his wrists and pulls his hands away from his face slowly, leaving them to rest by his sides. He looks beautiful like that, flushed and panting and sweating and… Minho shakes his head and smiles, looking straight at Chan’s eyes when he speaks again. His long hair has fallen over his pretty face, and Chan is left breathless again at the sight. “I’m going to treat you right, as long as you really want this.”

“I want this.” 

He’s sure of his words when he lets them out of his mouth. As much as Minho is a complete asshole, Chan knows that he means it. He’s been taking care of him the whole night, for fuck’s sake. It can’t be that bad and he can always tell him to stop. Everything is under control, Chan is confident in his actions. He can do this. 

_ Come on, you can do this. _

However, Chan’s not ready to how lewd the squelch of the lube sounds when Minho pours an excessive amount over his fingers, or to how Minho’s free hand feels when he uses it to spread his thighs apart, exposing his ass to him. He has never been so bare under anyone, and it feels weird to him. It feels weird to have Minho’s hungry gaze eyeing him as he circles a slicked finger over his entrance, the cold lube making Chan hiss and throw his head back.

When Minho’s finger slides into him, Chan lets out the most embarrassing noise of his damn life. 

It’s not that it hurts. It doesn’t. But it doesn’t feel  _ good _ either. It’s overly intrusive, and it doesn’t feel natural at all. He whines low when Minho lets in another knuckle, and it stretches him even more. After a few more seconds and a broken moan from Chan, Minho’s middle finger is completely inside him, and it stings so much that Chan can’t even breathe, the air having gotten stuck inside his lungs right when Minho’s digit started to probe at his hole. 

Then, right when Chan starts to relax into the touch, Minho’s finger curls inside him, his throat letting out a loud moan that leaves Minho’s mouth adorned with a smile. Chan doesn’t know what the youngest is searching along the tight walls, until he  _ knows _ .

The feeling is still foreign, but this time is pleasant and it travels straight to his dick and all over his trembling body. He doesn’t realize the loud moan he gives away until he hears Minho’s chuckle above his head. The feeling is warm, and it sends a shiver from his groin to the tip of his fingers. 

He craves more. 

He  _ needs _ more. 

“Are you still with me?” Minho asks as he pours more of the cold lube directly over his entrance, the sudden temperature change making him whine.

He can feel the younger trying to let another finger inside him. When it does, it stings again, but he finds himself aching for more of that foreign feeling. His back arches involuntarily when Minho’s fingers graze over his prostate again, another moan leaving his bitten-red lips. 

He knows Minho has asked him a question, but he doesn’t know how to speak. He also doesn’t know what he can answer. Physically, yes, he’s still there, laying down beneath him. Mentally? Mentally he’s lost in the paradise that Minho’s fingers are when they reach deep inside him.

“Chan.” The younger’s voice is firm when he speaks and it makes Chan open his eyes. It’s the first time he calls him by his name. Not  _ Bang Chan _ , not  _ Channie _ , and not  _ stupid little piece of shit _ . Chan, just Chan. It sounds good coming out of his pretty lips, and for a second he feels like he could get used to it, to this. “Are you with me or not?”

There’s a bright smile on his lips, and Chan can see the sweat that started to pool under his hairline. He replies with a nod and a hum, and Minho keeps going. 

He has introduced a third finger, and the older doesn’t notice it until they hit his prostate once again, a broken moan coming from his chest. Minho’s pace is slow, not wanting to fuck him to his fingers, but just to prepare him for something better. Chan can’t do anything but shiver at the thought that the better thing is coming sooner than he thinks.

So of course he’s excited when Minho’s fingers slip out of his hole to not slide back inside again, and when he rips the sachet open and slides the condom around his hard dick or when he pours even more lube to his gaping hole and his own covered dick. 

Chan thinks that it will be too messy, that his ass is wet in an excessive way, but he wouldn’t dare to tell Minho about it. He just stays quiet, bottom lip taken in between his teeth and his eyes half lidded, pure lust and adrenaline running through his veins. 

Then, Minho’s tip hits his rim, and pushes,  _ pushes _ until he’s halfway inside. Chan feels like he’s being split in a half, and he’s genuinely scared that something might break inside him by the pain he’s feeling. But, on the other hand, it’s Minho the one that’s above him, with steady breathing and a hand caressing his ribs in soothing motions, and even if, again, tonight is the first time they have ever talked with each other properly, Chan knows that he can trust him, and he’s not afraid anymore when the younger pushes in a little bit more.

“Does it feel okay?” Minho asks through his heavy breathing and Chan can’t even imagine the effort that staying still must be taking him, and he can notice it on the way his lower lip trembles and on the way his elbows shake around his torso. 

Chan frowns, and tries to focus on a way of trying to make the fire burning inside him go away. It doesn’t work, it really doesn’t, even less when Minho moves a little bit deeper, stretching him up more. 

“It burns,” Chan manages to say between his panting, and he can’t help but to wonder how pathetic or stupid his face looks. He figures it must be a lot when he catches Minho holding on his laugh.

“I know it does.” 

A pause. A thrust. He’s now buried to the hilt, reaching  _ so _ deep inside him, and  _ now _ Chan forgets how to breathe. No sound comes out of his mouth. No moan, no whine, no scream, nothing. His mouth hangs open, as well as his eyes, wide in shock. He fists the sheets until his knuckles turn white, and when he looks up at Minho, he wishes he hadn’t: his eyes are as dark as ever, irises almost invisible as the darkness of his pupils has taken over them in pure lust. He also has that signature smirk of his painted on his lips, and Chan wishes he could kiss it off. Right now, though, he’s more busy with trying not to die from how weird this feels. 

“I think I’m dying,” Chan voices out, and it makes the other laugh. But Chan’s not lying.

“I’m going to take that as a good thing and I’m going to start fucking you, how does that sound?” He makes his point by pulling back just a little and pushing back in, knocking Chan’s oxygen out of his chest once again, the younger making it a habit already. 

Chan craves for more, as much as it hurts, because he finds with that thrust that the pain starts to evolve to something else. It’s also a foreign sensation, but it’s similar to what his fingers felt like before; the warm feeling that embraced all his body and made his toes curl from the pleasure. He links his ankles on Minho’s lower back and pushes him deeper, trying to make him move more.

Minho, once again, of course, knows how to read Chan’s intentions.

It’s then when Chan lets the pleasure begin.

The drag of Minho’s dick against his tight and warm walls feels delicious once his body starts getting used to the size, soft moans and gasps coming out of his parted, plump lips matching with Minho’s thrusts. He doesn’t make any sound, but Chan doesn’t really pay attention to that either. His mind is more occupied trying not to make him come embarrassingly fast. It’s starting to fail within seconds.

Chan should feel embarrassed. He shouldn’t be locking eyes with Minho as he thrusts deep inside him, and he shouldn’t reach up to grab a handful of his long, dark hair, but he still does, and it works wonders for Minho, who starts moaning in unison with the older right when he pulls his hair a little to tight, the sting on his scalp travelling straight to his dick.

“Shit, Channie…” Minho leans down and attaches his mouth at Chan’s neck, biting bruises over his pale skin and kissing them after, getting drunk on the sounds the older is making under him. 

He knows that Chan won’t last so long, he can feel how overwhelmed he is, and the trembling from his legs tell him that he’s close, but that doesn’t make him stop. He rolls his hips at a sensual, almost deadly pace as he keeps tracing his skin with his lips, making all the marks he can over the blank canvas. He wants Chan to remember this for days.  _ As if the pain in the ass won’t be enough. _

“How can you feel so fucking good around my cock?”

Chan whines at his words, and he feels the pressure in his groin growing bigger and bigger. Minho keeps talking to him, but he can’t hear anything anymore. The pleasure that takes over his body as his orgasm hits him a little earlier than he would’ve liked to is the closest he will be to having a religious experience, he thinks as he comes back down to earth. He suddenly understands why Jisung had called it ‘ _ the little death _ ’. Minho is still pounding into him to the point of being overstimulating. 

“Minho…” Chan cries as Minho’s dick hits his abused prostate over and over again, his now soft dick slapping over his cum-stained stomach with each hard and fast thrust inside him. “Please,” he whimpers when Minho keeps going, as if his pleas were unheard by him. As if he didn’t care about hurting him, because he knows how much Chan enjoys the pain. “I can’t a-anymore… Ah, fuck, Minho!”

“Just… Just a little m-more…  _ Channie. _ ” 

Minho comes inside the condom with the moan of Chan’s name still lingering on his lips, his breath uneven and almost panting when he collapses on top of Chan’s trembling body after his last hard thrust, his softening dick slipping out of his ass with a wet pop from the amount of lube he used. Their bodies are disgusting, sticky with sweat and cum, but they don’t seem to care as Chan wraps his arms around Minho’s middle and pulls him even closer, closing his eyes as he feels Minho’s breath fanning over his chest.

“Wait here.” 

Minho stands up after a few minutes of their weird and unusual cuddling and walks towards the bathroom, discarding the condom somewhere on the floor on his way there. He comes back with wet wipes and a glass of water after no more than a minute, and Chan closes his eyes as he lets himself be cleaned. 

Minho’s hands caress first his chest and then over his inner thighs with the wipes, making sure that there’s no cum or lube left when he hands him the water, which Chan is very happy to drink. 

He hadn’t noticed how dry his throat was from moaning until he hydrated it again, swallowing all of the liquid at once and smiling sleepily at Minho once he was done. He hasn’t checked the time since they were heading for the dorms before he got better from the party, but it was pretty late back then so he assumes he should’ve been sleeping for a while now.

“Stay with me.” 

Is all he says before he lets himself fall over the mattress once again, Minho following his movements right after with a smile painted on his face, pulling the older onto his chest and tangling their legs together, caressing his hair with one hand and tracing circles over his back with the other.

Chan is at peace and already feels like dozing off, but suddenly he remembers. He remembers why they fucked, why all of this happened. He can’t help but to smile and blush slightly when he speaks again. 

“Are you going to shut up now?”

Minho chuckles and leans down to press a soft kiss against his forehead, relying on the feeling of the heated skin under his lips. He’s still smiling when he replies, the caresses never stopping.

“You wish, Bang Chan.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the mess that this fic is. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/moonsbbin) or on [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/moonsbbin). 
> 
> (y felicidades adelantadas a una de las mejores personas que conozco. te quiero muchísimo más de lo que imaginas)


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